He struck out the first man up with an ease that at first caused him wild elation, and then he calmed himself.
“There are two more,” he reasoned. “I’ve got to get two more—two more.”
He was almost in despair when he was hit for a two bagger by the next player, and he was in a nervous perspiration about the man stealing to third. Then Darrell signalled him to play for the batter, and Joe did, getting him out with an easy fly.
Then there was a mix-up when the next man hit, and by an error of the left fielder the man on second, who had stolen to third, went home with a run, while the man who had brought him in got to the last bag.
“That’s the stuff!” yelled the crowd. “Now one more to make it a tie and another to win!”
“Steady, boys! Steady!” called Darrell, as he saw his team on the verge of a breakdown. “We can beat ’em!”
There were now two out, one run was in, a man was on third and a heavy batter was up—one of the best of the Resolutes.
“Swat it, Armstrong! Swat it!” cried the crowd, and the big left fielder smiled confidently.
“Ball one!” cried the umpire, after Joe’s first delivery.